


The Heartbreaker and The Virgin

by Lady_Spiritelle



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: AU, F/M, Iceburns, Implied Kristanna, helsa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 10:05:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2577578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Spiritelle/pseuds/Lady_Spiritelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a oneshot based on a wonderful work of an Italian writer of the 18th century.</p><p>Not PWP because it kinda has a plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heartbreaker and The Virgin

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to my mind last Monday at school (instead of focusing on the First World War, I think about Helsa. Send help) and I wrote it that night because I just couldn't help it. This is an AU fic, precisely an "Italian 18th century AU" because Giuseppe Parini, writer of "Il Giorno" ("The Day"), lived in that period and that's also when his work takes place.
> 
> I hope you will like this oneshot, it's my first Explicit fic ever.

They see each other every day. She always walks quickly, chin up in pride, nails digging in the fabric of her purse, hair held in a tight bun under the many ribbons she wears in her hair along with bluebells and forget-me-nots. He glaces daringly at her every time he approaches her with his carriage, whistles, once he even tried touching her.

But she never lets him near because she knows how he is. He’s got lovers in every city, bastard sons and daughters all over the region, and thousands of weeping, naive girls and women that want his head on a silver plate because he’s abandoned them after one night stands. Not to mention he likes fast carriage rides and he’s run over peasants way too many times without even caring of the bleeding bodies torn apart by the iron heels that make mud mix with red liquid on the ground.

Ungodly things have happened inside that damn carriage and inside his palace. People say that his servants have caught him wanking multiple times, and they have heard only one name escaping his lips when he moans in agony and pleasure:  _ **Elsa**_.

That’s her, the proud and icy virgin that never lets Hans stare at her. The way he’d love to sink inside her and make her beg for more every second that passes isn’t a great topic for a conversation with his brothers or his friends. But he wants that, oh yes. More than anything else in the world.

She’s different from all the other whores he’s conquered. She’s been his prize for a long time, he’s sworn to himself that if he’ll ever stroke and pinch that porcelain skin of hers, he’ll never let her leave him. He’s usually not the possessive kind, but she’s his exception.

But Hans doesn’t know what has always been in Elsa’s mind. She likes him, though she keeps telling herself that he has so much wasted potential. He could be a gentleman, but he hates that word.

One night, they see each other at her sister’s engagement ball. He’s wearing a white suit, with blues and yellows in the ribbons around his chest and waist. She’s wearing a long dress of the color of the Moon, as if she’s stolen the satelite from the sky because when they run outside in the gardens, they can’t see it above them.

They haven’t been drinking anything. He’s parked his carriage far away from Arendelle Manor, and they chase each other until they reach it. He is for once a gentleman and opens the door to let her inside, then he follows her.

He gets rid of his pants first, showing her his cock, huge and red because he’s tormented it too many times at the thought of her, and she exposes her soft and pale breasts without the gracefulness a virgin should have. She doesn’t cover herself, she’s not afraid, she’s ready for what’s next.

As he always wanted to do, he sinks into her without tenderness or sweet words, her loud scream of pain is music to his ears, and she encourages him instead of telling him to take it slow. And oh God, it hurts, it hurts so bad because it’s her first time.

They are soon covered in sweat, their clothes under their tangled bodies as if those were pillows, and surprisingly for him, he comes first. He tries to keep in his mind that he should say something about that when they’ll be done, but he immediately forgets it because she comes too.

He lowers his head, his gold-green eyes meet her sapphire ones and then their lips meet in a heathed and wet kiss. Drops of sweat roll down their tired but satisfied bodies as the two lovers decide that they’ll be sleeping inside that carriage until the Sun will rise.


End file.
